Veritas
by Swamy
Summary: Post 5x07. She thought that coming back to life would be a turning point, just because you breathe again when you didn't anymore, and that makes for a big change; but being strong mainly consists in saying 'Hi' to your weakness every morning when you wake and trying to part ways with it before you part from yourself. Warnings: sexual assault, violence, character's death.


**This story is dedicated to _tracylaurencook:_** We don't know each other, and I'm sorry that I couldn't come up with anything better than this, but I only wanted you to know that I - along with a lot of other people - have been thinking of you and I pray you'll have the best in your life.

**General Note:** I know there are other fictions I have to update/promised to write, but I'm currently (once again) without my computer, so I have no way to do that. Please be patient, I will update when I have a chance to sit down and write.

**Warning: **This story contains sexual assault, violence, character death, sex.

#

She's discovering little things all over again now, because she knows better than to take them for granted. Bonnie holds the strap of her bag on her shoulder, makes herself walk slowly to her next class just so she can feel the sun on her face and smell the fresh-cut grass coming from the flowerbeds. Sometimes she pauses her iPod, not bothering to take off her earphones, just so that she can listen to the people chatting around her.

Her senses are on the alert, taking in every noise, every color, to live them and breathe them in. Now, the mere fact that she's able to ponder what lipstick color to wear in the morning, or if she wants to take cream with her coffee fills her with giddiness. She isn't going to waste her time on fear, or lies, for how reassuring and comfortable they might be. Life, after all, is not for the weaks, but for those who are eager to reach the bottom only so that they can climb their way up. And she's just crawled out from a grave, she can be a lot of things but she is not weak.

Yet, her steps come to a dead stop and for a moment she can feel a sort of panic bubbling up inside her veins like static electricity. Bonnie can feel the pancakes she had an hour ago threatening to make a reappearance. She stares at his profile as he sits, roosted on the back of a bench, three steps from where she stands. She looks at where he's looking – the building where Elena is following a class - and back at him, thinks fast about going back and changing her route because she really does not care about being punctual, or perfect anymore, she cares about being alive and she might just die of embarrassment right now.

But she's not fast enough in pondering her options because he turns his face and his eyes take on an entirely new spark, the irreverent one she remembered is warmed up by something he's fast in covering up. One corner of his mouth curls up and as he stares at her she's tempted to wrap herself in the loose cardigan she's wearing over her sapphire blue top, but she settles for pulling at one sleeve.

"Hi," she says, and it feels like an inappropriate greeting for the one person that fought the most to bring her back so that she could indulge over lipstick and coffee.

"Hi yourself, stranger," he says, watching her walk slowly up to him. "Breathing suits you, a lot," he adds, staring blatantly at her generous V-neck, making her roll her eyes. Still, she knows what he truly means by that.

"You're as romantic as I remembered."

"You haven't seen anything yet, Ophelia," he winks before reaching out to take the ends of her short hair between his fingers, to turn it and watch it better.

"New haircut?"

Bonnie stands very still, like an animal trying to mimic the background so that the predator will not attack. The idea of his fingers accidentally touching her skin is horribly thrilling and she does not know why. She really can't meditate on that right now. So much for courage.

"Yes," she confirms, trying her best to not sound breathless, "Do you like it?" she asks, only to stop feeling so stupid.

When he looks up into her eyes she thinks _maybe_ he realized his wrong move, but yet it takes him an eternity to let her strand of hair go. And when he does she realizes she had been holding her breath.

"I suppose," he says with a shrug.

"Please, restrain your enthusiasm," she replies with a bored voice.

Damon offers her a grin. "I'll lie for your benefit," he explains, "I think you are pretty hot with this new haircut. In fact it shows the curve of your neck and shoulders, which combined with your new taste in clothing makes it absolutely useless to waste any energy on a sexual fantasy of any kind because blood drives south completely on its own."

She's outraged, and flattered, and before she can say anything he reminds her, "I was lying," turning to go away and leaving her confused about more things than one.

#

"I'm just saying I don't know how you can still be with Damon once you compare him to Stefan," Caroline says, as she sticks her fork into her salad like it's a sworn enemy.

"I don't see the point in eating the salad, considering you can't get fat," Bonnie considers, taking a sip of her water.

Caroline turns her eyes from Elena's face to answer quickly "Because the other girls will have another reasons hate me if they find out my figure is irremediably perfect even if I live a carbohydrate and protein life."

"Well, that's easy," Elena says, "I do not compare Damon to Stefan."

Bonnie's attention goes to a tomato's slice fallen from her fork and when she looks back up at her friend, Elena's lips are strangely grey. For a moment she wonders if it's some kind of new trend for the season that she missed up, but as she speaks the color of her lips keeps on changing, "I'm with Damon because I love him, the way he is," becoming darker yet, until they are black.

Bonnie pulls back on her bench and both Caroline and Elena look at her puzzled.

"Are you all right?" Elena asks with a pout.

Bonnie tries to force a smile and nod, "Yeah, yeah, sure."

What - _the_ _fuck - _is that?

#

"A basic chemical hypothesis first emerged in Classical Greece with the theory of four elements as propounded definitively by Aristotle stating that that fire, air, earth and water were the fundamental elements from which everything is formed as a combin-"

Prof. Cohen makes a pause during his introduction to the chemistry class and looks at the girl sitting right next to Bonnie whom, oblivious to the attention, keeps on messaging with someone with the phone down between her legs.

Bonnie tries to kick at the heel of her boots once, then twice. She turns to her with a bothered expression, whispering "What?" and Bonnie only looks at the professor.

The girl looks over and realizes her gaffe. With a remarkable rapidity and wit she sticks her phone between her calf and the bootleg.

"Am I boring you, Miss…?" he asks, crossing his arms on his chest.

"Green. Alisha Green. And no, sir," she answers quickly, waving her hands in front of his to show that they are empty, "I- I got a cramp and I was trying to relive the pain. I'm so sorry if I caused any inconvenience."

Bonnie is positively impressed by her rapidity on pulling herself out of trouble, but as she stares at her she sees her lips becoming dark, and concentrating on the class becomes something close to impossible.

#

She lays next to Jeremy in his bed and he's staring at her with a happy grin on his boyish face. She sees that grin a lot recently, and when it appears she's usually naked.

"You're beautiful," he says, lowering his head on her to brush his nose against hers in a tender gesture.

"I'm glad you know that," she says, feeling sexy and confident. The warmth of the bed, following their coupling, is turning cold fast and the feeling it brings her is one of bitterness, so thin but so very cold she thinks it might cut her in two like a blade, so she takes his face in her hands and brings him down for another kiss.

"I know-" he says between kisses, "I know that I love you."

And she thinks this is another step in the right direction, on her path for the happiness she's always wanted, but when she opens her eyes and sees him looking down on her, she realizes his lips are grey, and she can't help but turn her face when he tries to kiss her again, for she knows what that means now, and it hurts to understand that he does not really love her.

But it hurts more to understand she doesn't love him either.

#

He's there again, roosted on the back of the bench, looking at Elena, as she's walking with Stefan and sharing notes on a class he knows by heart. One of the many.

Bonnie doesn't know what morbid curiosity makes her ask that. Maybe it's out of gratitude, maybe it's the curiosity to know what else he's hiding so well other than his liking of her living status.

"What are you staring at, so intently?"

"A crack," he says, serious, before turning his eyes on her.

"What?" she asks back, in a reflex.

"You know, when you see the first crack in a wall and you realize that it's only a matter of time before it all comes down?" she can't help but think of Jeremy, his muscular naked chest, his gentle eyes. His black lips. Jeremy whom will be waiting for her at the Salvatore boarding house so that they can have a romantic dinner, and then have sex. "And that no matter how long you can keep it standing, it will still fall eventually."

"I know," she says, without thinking, making him turn his eyes on her.

She thought that coming back to life would be a turning point, just because you breathe again when you didn't anymore, and that makes for a big change; but being strong mainly consists in saying 'Hi' to your weakness every morning when you wake and trying to part ways with it before you part from yourself.

Bonnie doesn't have the heart to abandon what she thought was what her heart wanted, and her life needed, and her happy ending was resting upon. The large shoulders of a boy with a happy grin. Because where will she turn when she's lost that?

Something is better than nothing, they say. But they are wrong, she thinks, looking at Damon's eyes—the eyes of someone who sees a crack and is waiting for everything to fall to pieces.

Maybe, sometimes, nothing is better then something. Maybe you must tear down the cracked wall to build a new one, and you must remind yourself to not be so scared when it's empty all around you. Courage can only come from desperation, when it's make it or break it and the end of the day it's a victory.

The way Damon stares at her is unsettling, and it gets on her nerves in a very familiar way. She almost feels comfortable now.

"Did I ever thank you?" she asks, stepping on the bench to sit next to him on its back, "For bringing me back, I mean."

"Not really," he says, looking ahead, where Elena is smiling at Stefan in that charming, calculated way he knows so well. "Feel free to do that whenever you're ready," he adds, turning to her, when she doesn't say anything.

"I will do that," she says, nodding innocently.

"Smartass," he chuckles.

#

She's friend with the pool's janitor so he always let her stay longer than it would be allowed. She's got the whole place to herself, can watch the lights reflecting on the ceiling, the brilliant blue of the illuminated water all around her, can play with water the way she did when she was a kid and patted water to splash Matt.

When she hears his voice the first thing that crosses her mind is that if she wins, he's going to buy her chocolate chip ice cream.

"I'm pretty sure you being here is against the rules," he says, head cocked to the side, a mischievous light in his blue eyes. They shine as much as the light she's soaked in, the connection makes her suddenly itch for him.

"I'm pretty sure you being here is against the rules, too," she says. It's a fleeting idea that leaves her as soon as it arrives and she turns to swim to the other side of the pool.

When she comes up he's down, on one knee, on the border of the pool. Her fingers grip the tile on the sides of him.

"There's anything I can do for you?" she asks with an irritated tone, like she wants him to make his piece and then disappear from her sight, even if she doesn't.

"I thought I could find a snack in here," he says, with a shrug, "But I only found you. You don't look sweet."

She cannot swear on it, because the lights of the pool can mislead her, but she's pretty sure his lips are dark now.

"I disappointed you," she says, to lead him to say more.

"You live to ruin my life," he plays along. His lips are black and she grins.

"What-" before he can ask her anything she's pulled him down by the neck of his black shirt and when he falls in the water, he falls over her, so that his body traps her at the bottom of the pool. Her eyes grow wide when he holds her by the shoulder to keep her there, her heart beats faster but she's sure she's not scared; not of what she should be scared of, anyway.

They stare and stare at each other. She thinks she sees a crack, but then the lack of hair kicks at her and he lets her go so that she can swim up.

"I know about you and Elena," she says, coming up on the stepladder, "I'm sorry."

"I know about you and Jeremy," he says, and when he doesn't add anything more she turns around. He looks at her, shrugs. "That's all. I know about you and Jeremy."

She can't blame him for not caring about their break-up, considering she does not care either.

#

"21051" she says, making him look at her like she's just growth a second head, "What's 21051?"

She wasn't really thinking when she spoke, but he was there, arms naked as he put together her new curtain pole – so very domestic she was tempted to pinch herself or just laugh out loud – because he came to see Elena but found her instead, tiptoes over a chair and armed with a drill, and decided he needed to help her. Not before informing her that "If the roles were traded, it would be the perfect beginning for a porn movie."

And now he's looking down on her and those numbers echo in her head, because there's something there. There's something on his skin.

"Where did you hear that?" he asks her, his voice strangely wary.

"Nowhere…"

He gets down, in front of her in one jump, hardly making any sound, wraps one hand around her throat and looks at her in a way that should make her beg for her life, but she stares at his face, and sees ghosts of bruises under the flawless skin.

"Did Elena tell you?"

"What-" She wraps her fingers around his, tries to pull them away with no result. He's not applying enough strength to suffocate her but the charade is bothering her. The fact that she's without her powers does not mean he can bully her into silence.

She knees him between the legs and when he bends in pain muttering a "Fuck" she takes two steps back, "Thanks for the offer but I think I'll pass."

"I'm not playing-"

"Me neither," she says, cutting his words, "I was minding my own business. You came looking for Elena and I let you in. You're always in my way, despite swearing to anything alive or dead that I'm a pain in the ass, and I would appreciate if you could cut the bad wolf crap to-"

But he yells, "How do you know those numbers?"

And she yells back, "I've seen them on you!"

Bonnie walks to him, takes his arm and traces a line with the tip of her fingers where the numbers should be.

"I see the numbers, and I see the cuts and the bruises, and-" the words die inside her mouth when she realizes what she's doing. Stripping him naked of every defense he's ever used just because she can. Just because she came back with no power but with those clean eyes that see behind people's lie and façade.

He's got the eyes of a wounded animal and she does not know how to fix it. She doesn't if anyone can. Fixing people is stuff for romance novels. This is life and it's Damon and it is the way it is.

He takes off his shirt to let her admire his unwounded skin and all the things she says she can see. "Is it a nice show?" he asks with a cutting voice.

It is like a knee jerk to answer him in kind, "I suppose I cannot complain since I never paid for the tickets, I'll just think about the free popcorn and endure it."

"It was like a vacation really," he says, "You should know, I have a passion for kinky stuff."

The dark lips do not surprise her.

"Will you feel better if I pretend to believe you?" she asks, blank.

"Pretend?" he asks back, gritting his teeth, "I think you forgot who I am."

"I think you forgot too," she says, before she can think better.

He chuckles bitterly, slides one hand into his black hair, and then bends a finger under her chin to make her look up like he would do with a child.

"Is this your fantasy?" he asks, way too cheerily. "Wanna wear your red cross nurse suit and offer comprehension and comfort, and maybe a little horizontal sympathy to this lost soul?" he asks, his face inches away from hers, ready to learn her shame and anger as soon as they will bloom in her irises, "What do you say? Wanna try and fix me?"

"You can't be fixed," she says, and she reads it in his eyes that he thinks just that, "There's nothing broken in you."

He stands straight, looks at her puzzled, face grimacing while she holds her head high and dares him to say otherwise.

"What's wrong with you?" he asks, like this is all wrong. They have unspoken rules to follow, boundaries to not overstep, commandments to observe. She's wrecking them all.

"Is this your fantasy?" she asks, using his own words against him, "Do you like it that much, being the cursed hero of the story? The dark, misunderstood knight that wants to redeem himself but is fighting an adverse destiny?" she sounds amused and mocking and he holds his jaw like he wants to rip her head off her neck.

"You're not doomed to be what you came to be. You're only too scared that if you try and be what you want you might actually succeed," she says, almost spitting the words in his face.

"You don't know a thing about me," he hisses, one finger up in her face like he's warning her to stop. She was never one to do as he said.

"I know more than you'd like, it seems," she says, staring down at his chest. If she concentrate enough she can see the open wound where they cut him to take out his organs and observe as they, slowly and painfully, grew back again.

"I never would have guessed. It turns out you've got no guts."

There's a mocking grin plastered on her annoyingly pretty face and he takes her by the shoulders, pulling her off the ground like he wants to throw her away, only breaking her would nullify every effort he made to bring her back to life and that would be a waste, so he resorts to the next best option—wiping her grin away with a kiss so fierce she feels her mouth burning.

He's the one attacking her mouth, but she's the first one to slide her tongue in his, holding on to his shoulders like her life depended on it. He's way warmer then she imagined, she thinks, until he holds her by the waist, presses her back against a wall she did not remember was there and kisses away every rational thought to leave only a blurry idea of his eyes and her body soaked in him.

He smells the skin of her neck like an addict would snort on cocaine, groans against her ear before kissing her again. Damon trusts his hips against her lap, once, twice, like he wants to penetrate her through both their clothes. His erection is hard against the warmth between her legs. Bonnie only pushes back, never backs down, making him help her rock herself against his confined thickness.

They are as restrained in their clothes and they are in their lives but still they work a friction which makes them groan in aching want. There's only one thing to do; step up or step back, and when he puts her down, letting her slide against the wall, and put space between them, there's nothing to say to erase this from their memory.

He turns his face to the side and she does the same. She's warm and aroused and he must remind himself "This was wrong."

She doesn't look at him, for fear his lips will not be the color she wants them to be.

#

When Elena happily tells her and Caroline that she fixed things with Damon, and they are together again, and more in love then ever she congratulates and leaves so that she will be spared the details of how they got back together, and _how many times_ they got back together.

She takes two classes more. She feels safer having no time at all to think of anything but studies, she feels better having a good excuse to miss the recurring meetings of their A Vampire for a Friend Club. And after all, saving the day is not in her job description anymore; she's got no utility and so they've got no need for her.

It hurts a little, but mostly she thinks it's for the best. She dreads enough the passing of the supernatural beings that come to her as the anchor to worry about the rest of her life too.

Once, two weeks after their kiss, she leaves her dorm room just when Damon is walking Elena back. Because her friend keeps asking her stupid things like if she's going to class and if she can let her borrow her notes and such, she's forced to spend with them the longest forty-four seconds of her life, and the whole time Damon's eyes on her feel like lava.

She spends the whole afternoon barricaded inside the library, studying for a test, and just when her eyesight starts being crossed and her body begs her for a break, she sees a cup of coffee being placed in front of her. The smell of it makes her feel butterflies in her stomach, so thrilled to have a source of relief.

"The answer to that question is _a,"_ and when she raises her head she finds herself looking in the green eyes of Derek Adams: top student, captain of the football team, member of the most elitist confraternity of the whole country, always looking like he's ready to be on the cover page of a magazine.

"Ah," she smiles as she watches him sit next to her with his own coffee, "Thanks, I was getting lost here."

"It doesn't surprise me. You've been studying for five hours straight without a single break."

She raises her eyebrows and he smiles, embarrassed, lowering his eyes for a moment.

"I've been looking at you, sorry," he says, shrugging, "You hardly go unnoticed."

Bonnie's got no time to reply before Elena's text light up the screen of her muted phone, and she has to inform him "My friend is asking me to join her for dinner."

"Girlfriend?" he asks, making her giggle.

"Yes, my friend Elena," she explains, "Elena Gilbert."

He makes a face to explain he never heard of her, because of course they're freshman, and not everyone in the world wants to worship at Elena's altar, and yet is extremely refreshing, so when Derek asks her if she can tell Elena that she's going to eat with a new friend, she nods.

#

Derek is too good to be true. He walks her to class, helps her when she needs to study for a test, gives her tickets for his matches and when he asks her out for their first date he brings her a rose.

Caroline tells her she deserves every ounce of attention, Elena tells her to be careful. Nevermind the fact that she's actually sleeping with a serial killer. Bonnie would have never imagined herself being distrustful of Elena's worry and good intentions; but, since she became a vampire she's been thirsty for both blood and attention, in a way she never was before. Or maybe, sometimes Bonnie thinks, in a way she never realized before.

The date took place during the weekend, the campus is almost deserted because everyone went back home to be with their families. But Bonnie has no family anymore, only Caroline and Elena. And wherever they are, Damon and Jeremy follow; and it seems like pushing her poor luck way too much to spend time in the house of the vampire she made out with, where her ex-boyfriend lives together with the sister who's currently the girlfriend of said vampire.

Instead Bonnie stays at the Campus, enjoys her date, thinks of Damon only once – well, maybe twice, but only twice – and when Derek walks her to her door she feels almost content, because there's this new, exciting possibility for her and it wants her.

The kiss starts softly, he tastes like the _Angel Face_ he ordered and she thinks he's too good to be true.

As he kisses her he holds her against the door, tries to open it but it's locked, and he rushes to ask her, "Where's your key? We'll be more comfortable inside." His smile is different, assuming, she feels like it going too fast, and tries to put some space between them. He doesn't let her.

"Com' on, don't be shy. I know you want it too," he whispers against her ear. His breath is hot and she shivers in disgust.

"I don't," she insists, pushing harder, but he easily locks her wrists above her head so that he can start to suck with no gentleness on the curve of her neck.

"Stop it, I don't want to!" she screams, but her voice is faint in fear. Her whole body tremble but she forces herself to rebel, to wriggle against the pressing of his body.

"No one will hear you, bitch!" he hisses between his teeth, slapping her hard with his free hand. Her head hits back, she hears the sound of her own skull against the wall, it's a deaf sound, a thud which seems to vibrate inside of her, and her lucidity sleeps for a moment as her eyes water up. When his face becomes clear again she almost hopes to see his canine elongates so that she can call him a monster, relegate him inside a sub-category of things that scare kids at night and never let him out of there. But he's human and she wants to cry.

"Now be a good girl," he says, "Behave. You'll like it more if you do."

Fear is so strong she can hardly breathe, but still her mind orders her body to fight back. She tries kicking but he's an athlete, way stronger and larger then she is and when he slips his hand under her skirt she's helpless. She repeats no-no-no-no but he laughs and she tastes the blood running down on her upper lip. She must breathe through her mouth, because her nose is bleeding.

She manages to pierce his foot with her six inches heels, but all she [accomplishes is making] him angry. He slaps her again, her sight blurs, her knees go weak and she feels a weight pressing on her chest. He talks above her, impatient with anticipation, telling her "You're fierce, I like you better than all the others," as her body grows cold because she's laying down on the concrete and she's probably got a concussion.

Others? She thinks. He did this to someone else too? She doesn't know if it's the concussion or just pure disgust but she feels like throwing up and she turns her face because the muscles of her stomach are jerking.

Something acid comes up her throat but she's got no room to move away from him and let it out. And she's got no one to call for help, because her mother is a stranger to her, and her dad died in front of her eyes, and she's alone in an alien place under a boy whom everyone believes to be perfect and if she comes out of this alive no one will ever believe. If she comes out of this alive.

Bonnie hears the metallic sound of his zipper lowered, feels his callous fingers tearing away her panties, she tries to scrape his face to leave some sort of evidence on him but he pins her down and holds her eyes, spelling "I'm gonna make you scream."

"Me too," she hears, before the weight is lifted off her in such a way that she feels cold wind against her chest. It takes her all her strength to sit up and when she does she sees Derek body falling down after hitting the wall. The impact is so hard that she can hear the crack of his skull – it's like a plastic toy someone stepped over accidentally - and when he falls down he doesn't make one noise. His body lays crumbled over the concrete, unmoving.

"Oh, hell," Damon mutters with some sort of regret. She cannot be sure if that light tremor she sees it's real, for she is trembling herself.

Damon kneels next to her, reaches out to take her face and check her wounds but she's startled, unable to let anyone touch her right now and she drags herself back, in panic. "Don't, don't."

"Okay," he says, raising both his hands, showing his palms to assure her he's not going to make a move without her consent.

"You need to go to the hospital…" he explains.

"I don't want to go," she says, "No one has to know."

"Have you hit your head?" he asks, irritated, before regretting his poor choice of words. "Listen, you're in bad shape. You need a doctor to-"

"He's dead, isn't he?" she asks, holding together the pieces of her shirt, which she didn't realize he had torn.

"Yeah," he admits grimacing, "I overdid it," he admits. "I threw him so hard he died immediately, I had promised to make him scream before that. Lucky bastard."

"And he just tried to- to-" she cannot complete the sentence without trembling and he's not going to force her to do something she doesn't want to, but now she needs help.

"Okay, so we need to avoid the police. I see your point and I applaud your fast thinking, but unless you go to the hospital you have to let me help you, okay?"

He looks at her patiently waiting for her to give him an answer, doesn't even bother to look around and make sure no one witnessed to what he did. He just stays there, next to her, waiting.

She nods slowly and when he lifts his arms under her knees and behind her back she curls up on herself, trying to disappear inside his hold.

Bonnie counts her breaths as he takes her inside her dorm room and lowers her on the bed. He manages to put her under the covers, and tries to offer her some comfort, "Should I call Elena and Caroline?"

"No, please," her answer is breathless, like he's just hit her again, "Don't," she begs and he takes her hands to reassure her.

"Okay, okay," he repeats, "But you're bleeding. There's a cut over your head and your nose is broken. I'm pretty sure you've got a concussion, so if you refuse to see a doctor, I'm gonna have to feed you my blood, do you understand? There's no other way to hide this."

"I understand," she says, nodding again, trying to stop the tears from forming.

Damon holds her eyes, tears at his hand and places it over her mouth. She shuts her eyes trying to take the metallic taste of it but her gag reflex makes her turn her face, so that Damon must take his hand away.

"The last time I did this you were unconscious. It was easier," teenage girls can be so stupid to think ordering blood over the internet to play at the Twilight romance is fun, but blood has a harsh taste and it's hard to take unless you're only sucking on a paper cut. "Let's try again," he says, "I'm going to help you but I need to touch you."

She looks at him wary and watches him place his hand on her stomach, in a soothing circular motion— one she did to herself too every time she got stomachache because she had too much ice cream –and then he places his hand over her mouth again. She sucks slowly, concentrates on the touch of his hand, on his voice, deep and gentle in a way she never heard it before, saying things words like "brave" and "strongest person I know" and "no one will touch you again," and at some point she stops feeding on him because she's falling asleep.

#

She's jumpy and nervous and unable to concentrate, so she must leave the two classes she had taken up. She looks around herself a lot more, leaves her room as little as possible, and feels watched wherever she goes. It turns out Derek was found the morning after in the middle of the street, _he was hit by a car at full speed, or more probably a TIR _the local paper says, _205 bones over 206 were broken – _she wonders what bone stayed whole - _no witnesses were found, the rain washed away any evidence that could be left_ and everyone mourned the loss of a great boy whom had a brilliant future ahead of him.

In front of his picture she counts eleven relived sighs and a many tears that had nothing to do with loss and a lot with freedom.

Caroline blames her behavior on Derek's death. Elena never suspects a thing; she's got more urgent matters at the moment, like the fact that Damon doesn't seems to be so willing to be at her beckon call anymore.

One day, as Bonnie's coming back from the library and the sun is almost set, she turns around to check if she's being followed. She always feels like that, and paranoia was never her color. Yet, she's not scared, so she takes her phone from her backpack and writes a text.

Then she waits.

Five seconds later Damon steps out from a corner.

"I must be slipping," he admits, surprised his skills as stalker failed him so.

"You shouldn't worry about me," she says, biting the inside of her mouth as she regrets the words she said. It's not easy to admit you need help. Sometimes you just hope someone will hear you crying out even when you can barely make a sound.

"I'm not worried," but his lips go dark and she makes a face.

"How are you?" he asks, trying to look uninterested in her answer, sinking both his fists into the pockets of his jeans.

"I'm fine."

"Should I pretend to believe you?" he asks, bringing back memories she though had blurred away inside her mind. And what if he can read her scars like she can read his?

She can't think of that now, nor, it seems, can she avoid him.

"Are you going my direction?" she just asks.

This is how it begins. From then on, when she comes out of a class he appears at her side, falls into step with her. Her arms wrapped around her books, his hands sank into his pockets. They hardly say a word, ever, but they stop to wait for the other to catch up when the stream of students separate them. She can feel his hard presence at her back when she opens the dorm door but once she's inside he's never there anymore when she looks up as she closes it.

#

It's raining when she leaves professor Philips class and she hunches her shoulder, raises the hood of her jacket and turns her eyes around waiting for him to appear. Someone pushes her accidentally, passing her by, she accepts the apology but doesn't move from there. Bonnie taps her ankle boots on the wet concrete, nervous and cold, impatient to spot him somewhere in the distance.

She waits twenty minutes before she's able to admit that he's not going to show up.

She walks alone, a girl looks at her and then around, obviously waiting for her daily dose of sexy, silent stranger. Bonnie wants to tell her she can stop bothering, he was barely an accident during her day and the accident is over for good now.

She slips her key inside the lock but the door is already unlocked. Caroline must be back.

Damon's hard presence at her back is missing and she feels her heart sink a bit; she's not a damsel in distress and he's the farthest thing from a knight in shining armor, and she doesn't miss his protection, but she misses his presence. She misses him and she can feel her eyes watering up.

She got used to him, so much that he was able to sink her mood and darken her day just by not showing up. It's so pathetic, she thinks as she enters her room, face down so that her friend won't notice her glossy eyes.

She pushes the door and sneezes, before pushing back the hood of her jacket. She's soaking wet and trembling and his voice startles her.

"It's about time," he says, making her raise her eyes on him. He's on Elena's bed, his back against the pillows, his legs crossed at the ankles. He's holding papers and brochures.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, surprised. He's only inside her dorm room when he and Elena needs some privacy and there's no better option available.

"What took you so long?" he asks back, ignoring her question.

She blinks, and leaves her books on the writing desk.

"I- I had things to do," she lies, unwilling to admit she had been waiting for him.

"Enjoyable things?" he asks again, looking at her with some sort of suspect, getting as only answer another sneeze.

"You should take a hot shower," he suggests, watching her body shivering under her cold clothes.

Bonnie only shakes her head, before going to sit on her bed to slip off her boots and crosses her legs in a lotus position, with her toes touching the outer sides of her thighs. She wants to ask him why he didn't wait for her today, but that would make her appear clingy – she's perfectly aware that he has no obligation towards her nor particular desire for her company and she once was the same – moreover, she's just glad he's there now to complain about what was about to make her cry only one minute ago.

"I'm giving a look to the classes still available. Nothing new, I think I attended them all at least once," he says, sounding as bored as he looks.

"And you're doing that because…"

"Because you have in front of you a new, proud student of this outstanding College," he fills her in with a fake full teeth smile.

Bonnie nods, "You're really giving your best shot at this relationship, aren't you?" she remembers his face when he was talking about the _crack_ and she can't help but think how lucky Elena is to have him. Such a devotion is something she can only dream about.

He only looks at her, before going back at his brochures, throwing some on her lap.

"Com'on, help me out here," he says, "What are my best options?"

They are almost done with picking classes when she suddenly looks at him to ask "How do you turn it off?"

The way he stares at her makes her turn her eyes away, guilty.

"Don't be a coward," he says, waiting for her eyes on his again before continuing on, "I like that you aren't one," he admits "And If you're trying to take any responsibility because I killed yet another human, just don't. I'm only sorry that I didn't let him enjoy the ride to hell," her green eyes are wide and she holds his gaze the same way she's always held her ground.

Her mouth is dry, her skin is warming up, in the back of her mind a voice tells her that Elena's bed will smell of him when he leaves. She must concentrate to keep her breathing regular. She thinks she saw his eyes falling on her lips, but he's so fast in looking away she cannot swear on it.

She's certainly seeing thing. The things she wants to see.

"Anyway, whoever kept you from coming back right away after class is an idiot," he says, busying himself with his papers, "Your temperature is raising, I think you're getting a fever."

"I'll take that shower, then," she decides standing from the bed. Anything will do to get away from him, and from the things she has not strength to hide to herself.

She only comes out of the bathroom once she hears Elena's voice and she's dresses in a baggy shirt and a pair of sweat pants. Her friend is looking over the classes her boyfriend picked when he turns towards her and raises a hand to her forehead to feel her temperature.

The touch is gentle and it seems to wake up a craving inside her body. She feels her cheeks heating up and as he takes away his hand he suggests her to rest.

Elena turns around, looking from Bonnie to Damon and then back again, "Something's wrong?" she asks, maybe to herself.

Did they always stand so close to each other?

#

Damon and Elena have their arms linked together when she sees them, and she holds her hand around Jeremy's bicep by reflex, like she's looking for a shelter that will protect her eyes from that sight. She's got no time to deny the fact that she's drawn to her best friend's boyfriend, no energy to waste on hating herself, she just wants to find a balance in this mess. And maybe Jeremy can help.

They are lazily stroking each other through clothes one afternoon, comfortably sitting on the couch of the Salvatore's boarding house when the smell of Damon over the fabric of the sofa makes her moan. She can see him behind her closed eyelids and must bit at her lip to not moan the wrong name. She feels bad, but mostly aroused, and Jeremy's heart is not hers to break anyway.

Her lids are heavy, her vision blurred by a shot of pure concupiscence, she pushes him back to make space to sit on his lap. His erection is growing against her warmness and she rocks herself with a soft, teasing rhythm.

"Am I interrupting anything?" his voice is tense, hard, bothered. Her first instinct is to push herself back on Jeremy's hardness and the boy must swallow a moan. Bonnie's head turns around as her body stills.

"Damon, man," Jeremy protests embarrassed, covering himself up with a pillow, when Bonnie slips away from him, "Wasn't it obvious enough?"

"Ops," he says with a shrug, "I didn't notice you were there too," he mocks him, breathing in carefully.

Bonnie stays next to Jeremy, sitting composed and very lady like. He looks at her for longer than he needs to before turning away.

#

"Does it feels safe?" he asks one day, turning an empty chair next to her as she's bent over her research, in the library.

Bonnie looks at him annoyed, "Good morning to you too."

"Being with baby-Gilbert, does it feel safe?" he asks, "Is that what you're looking for?"

"Why do you want to know? Are you going to publish an announcement on the lonely hearts column?" she asks back, trying to avoid answering him.

Someone shushes them and she frowns at him but he's completely uncaring of it.

"So, are you going to answer or are you going to keep me here all day?" he asks, his tone normal, which is still way too high for the place they are, "Because I'm telling you, I have nothing better to-"

She kicks at his leg and stands, embarrassed by all the heads turned towards her. Bonnie decides to go and hide in the library's restroom until he give up. Only he's Damon, and he giving up is not in his modus operandi. In fact he follows her.

"It's the women's restroom!" she protests, throwing her hands in the air.

"No one ever gave me a tour so I suppose it's just a moment like another to do it," he winks at her, walking towards her, making her back away.

"If you're bored go look for your girlfriend," she tells him, looking away.

"Hasn't she told you?" he asks, puzzled, "We broke up last week."

She's surprised, confused. Hopeful. Bad, bad Bonnie.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," she says, trying to have her tone matching her words. She supposes she succeeds.

"Are you?" he asks, studying her like he could actually read the truth over her face. That's her prerogative. "Of course you are, you are always sorry for everybody after all."

"Do you…" she's confused and they are way too close inside a reduced space, "Do you need to talk about it?"

"Do I need to-" He chokes on a laugh, eyes wide and more than a little irritated by her attitude. There's some kind of cold fury in the stiffness of his body and she thinks if she tries to touch him now to soothe him, he might just explode.

She raises one hand in the air, uncertain about touching him or not. The movement of her hand calls his attention, he looks the tip of her fingers like they are hypnotizing him, "Damon," she says, making him look at her.

He's towering over her, looking hungry and defenseless, a contradiction that sparks a flame into her.

"I came to talk about you and your relapse into the Gilbert loop," he says, suddenly more in control.

"You're one to talk," she mocks him.

"I broke it off, didn't I?" he asks, surprising her. She was not expecting to hear that, she had somehow took for granted that Elena had been to one to break their relationship. She's not been pining, after all. Not that she herself has been around to notice that, she's practicing the healthy philosophy of caring about her own life for once.

"Well, I didn't feel like being alone, and Jeremy was happy to oblige," she says, shrugging.

"I bet he was," he replies, biting the bullet.

#

They're talking about how happy they are that the semester is almost over, and she's sitting on Elena's bed with her and Caroline is already starting to pack her things. She's so slow and precise with this kind of things she always needs to start one week ahead.

"I've been invited to spend my vacation to New Orleans," Caroline says.

"You're kidding me!" Bonnie says.

"Of course not."

"And are you going?" she asks

"Of course not," Caroline grimaces, making both her friends laugh.

"I think Stefan's idea of a coast-to-coast trip is amazing," she adds. Elena's face becomes tense, for how much she tries to hide it; "Oh," she just says.

"You mean he didn't ask you?" Caroline asks.

"No," the brunette shrugs, pretending not to care.

"I'm sorry, I guess he just wants to have a friendly trip, and considering your history…"

"Right," the other nods, not one ounce happier about it than one second ago.

"I know it hurts you to be left out of his life but-"

"It's okay," she says, cutting her words with a smile. Bonnie is not surprised about the color of her lips and she lets herself fall back on her bed. It still smells like Damon. Her eyes closes on their own and she's sure she's going to dream of him tonight. Maybe they'll get back to where they left off last time. That would be good. She can't wait.

#

His hand cups her beast, slipping under her shirt and she can feel his body pressed behind her.

"What are you doing?" she asks, confused by his warm hand moving over her with such naturalness.

"I'm looking for your heart," he says, as the tip of his finger teases her nipple. And then there's light behind her closed eyes and she finds herself staring at Elena.

The clock on the nightstand says that it's two in the morning, "What? It's the end of the world?" she asks, sitting up in her bed, covering her mouth with her hand as she yawn.

"You called Damon's name in your sleep," Elena says, wary.

"Did I?" the girl asks, after a long silence.

"There's something I should know?"

"I don't think so."

"Bonnie," Elena says in a warning tone.

"Elena, he's not even your boyfriend anymore," Bonnie protests her; lack of sleep makes her grumpy, lying friends that can't make up their minds too.

Elena looks shocked, eyes wide and outraged, "You went behind my back-"

"I did not such thing!" Bonnie denies, "Damon and I barely speak to each other lately."

"So what?" the other girl asks, "You just… happened to have a dream about him?" she asks, looking unsure, something Bonnie isn't used to see, "Di he broke up with me…because of you?" she asks grimacing.

"How did you jump to that conclusion?" Bonnie asks back, grimacing herself, "Are you crazy?"

"I'm not crazy, and I'm not stupid, and I know he's always had a soft spot for you," she says, sounding like an accusation, "the girl that stands her ground and doesn't let him have his way."

It's kind of unsettling to hear from her what Damon Salvatore thinks of her. Feels for her. It's kind of good.

"Maybe you're neither of those things, but you're surely egoist," she replies trying to not get distracted over her words.

"Me?" Elena's voice takes an unpleasant high pitch.

"You broke up one month ago and you still can't make up your mind and decide if you're brokenhearted over that or over the fact that Stefan did not knock up at your door with a diamond ring yet. You jumped from one brother to the other with no consideration for anyone's feeling but yours and now you're up the wall because I had a dream about your ex-boyfriend."

"I followed my heart!" Elena protests, like that is a good enough excuse to walk over someone's feelings.

"And so what if I do the same?" Bonnie asks back, suddenly angry at her even if she had always accepted every decision she made like her happiness was truly the only thing in the world that mattered.

#

She hadn't been able to get any sleep after that conversation. They both had torn at each other, exposing secrets and lies and maybe managing to salvage their friendship, and now she was too exhausted to move from the bench.

"You look horrible."

She doesn't even bother to turn around.

"I feel horrible."

"Rough night?"

"You could say that," she confirms, too tired even to yawn at this point. She attended four classes and can't even tell what they were about. Why did she even get out of bed this morning?

"Who kept you busy?" he asks with a dark tone.

"Elena."

"Kinky," his cheery voice makes her jump back.

"Shut up," she scolds him, trying her best to not let her eyes close.

"Yes, ma'm," he says, before turning his head towards her at the feeling of her head on his shoulder.

"Bonnie?" he asks, without waiting to have any kind of answer. He can tell from her breathing that she's asleep already and he remains sitting there, letting her have her well-deserved rest.

She opens her eyes as he's lowering her in her bed.

"Go back to sleep," he murmurs, but her hands grip at his shirt and she stops him from getting away.

"I've been sleeping for so long already," she says, looking him straight in the eyes, waiting for his brain to catch up with her surrender.

He lowers his head on her never leaving her eyes, to make sure it's actually what she wants. She moans at the touch of his tongue like she's been waiting for a long time for this to happen.

"Are you awake?" he asks, against her mouth, pulling slightly back.

"Are you?" she asks back.

"I always have this kind of fantasy when I'm awake," he says with a grin, accommodating himself on her, between her legs. He brushes the hair away from her forehead and kisses her again. Her hands slip on his back, clutching at his shirt.

"You make it sound like it happens really often," she says with a mischievous glint in her green eyes, and he grins down on her.

"Are you into dirty talk? Because if you are, I'm totally up for that," and she laughs. Mouth and heart and teeth showing and all that. And when she stops they can resume their kissing. He seems to put all of his energy into knowing her mouth, she doesn't mind. But she needs to kick him out before they can go any further.

After then, they sleep together many times – as in actually sleeping, with eyes closed and hands still. She doesn't try to talk about what they do or don't do when they are alone, doesn't try to actually _date_ him, doesn't speak of feelings and doesn't look at him when he let slip that he cares.

#

She's packing her things, carefully folding her clothes. The plane ticket is heavy in the pocket of her shirt. She'd like to feel a light heart right now, the stretching of a smile on her face, excitement bubbling up inside, instead her heart is threatening to crush her stomach, she can barely keep her mouth from frowning as she tries to push back the moment she will have to zip her suitcase.

The campus is half empty, and everyone is leaving with the speed of a rat abandoning a sinking ship. Bonnie's world is the only one that slowed down, and she wants for it to stay still. Damon became a little bit colder with each day in the last two weeks and she was too much of a coward to ask why, more than anything, she was too much of a coward to listen to his answer.

She told him she was going on a vacation with Elena, just the two of them, like old times. Old times now seem so safe, because in the old times she didn't have to die for anyone's sake, and she was not a revolving door for supernatural ghosts, and she didn't want the arms of a vampire around her. She might as well have told him he was a burden, all considered, and even if it's more convenient to play coy she knows that.

She knows that, now that he's not there and he's not going to be there for months. Maybe ever again, because she's been that good at cutting him out, with every repressed touch, all that she denied herself.

"The taxi is waiting for us," Elena tells her opening the door just enough to stick her head inside.

"I'm coming," Bonnie says, trying to smile at the prospect. She's about to have almost three full months of sunny, exotic places, colored drinks with little umbrellas and time for anything she wants to indulge into. Only, she would have loved to visit a few European capitals and drink an espresso in San Marco Square. Most of all she only wants to indulge in Damon.

But Elena is all smiles, already wearing her floppy hat with a striped design, looking very eager to wear her new bikini to work on a tan she can't get anyway, and she can't leave her alone, can she?

#

She's cold as she waits on the doorstep, wrapping her own arms around her won't change a thing. The violent shiver that runs through her, though, has another reason entirely. He's clearly surprised to see her there, and at such an early hour.

"If you're the new newspaper boy you could just leave it on the doormat," he says, watching her stand to follow him at the door.

"What are you doing here so early?" he asks, noticing her bags on the ground, "I told you I wasn't interested in playing the airport scene. I think it's too cliché."

"I've been waiting for you," she just says, "You smell really bad." He obviously has drank quite a lot, probably has been doing that for the entire night.

"I need a shower," he admits with a shrug, turning the key inside the lock to step inside "Wanna join me?"

"I'd like that."

Damon turns around to look at her, and understand if he actually heard her right. She looks serious, and seriously cold, so he manages to put aside the ungracious arousal she has just instilled to open the door wider, so that she'll get the unspoken invitation to come inside.

"Have you been waiting for me the whole night?" he asks, putting the pieces together, trying to not jump to conclusion. She's been pulling and pushing for a good month now and he's half waiting for her to kiss him and wave him goodbye.

"Yes," she admits, "I needed to ask you something." She adds following him inside.

"What's that?"

"What do you say about Venice?" she says, "I know it's kind of cliché but I really want to go there."

"What are you doing exactly?" he asks, wary.

"Sometimes I just… wanna run away, you know," she admits,"Yes, you know..." she says like she's talking to herself, "So I thought I could run away with you instead. For three months."

"Why should I want to?" he asks, knowing well he's pushing his luck, but unable to stop himself. She's always with one foot outside the door and he's guard is lowered enough that she could kill him with her arms tied behind her back, "You seem to be just fine without me."

"I spent the night on your doorstep. I'm tired and cold and hungry and I'm really not fine without you," she sounds serious and even a bit angry at him. It makes him smile.

"You're quite lovely when you're angry," he only states, almost sounding like it's an undeniable truth, like the sun that rises in the east.

"How lucky, you make me angry all the time," she says, with a challenging look.

"So, let's say that I come with you for three months. What after that?" he asks, taking her face into his hands, to read the truth in her eyes.

"Will you still want me in three months?" she asks.

"Yes, I will," he admits, shamelessly, "And I will want you in three years, and three centuries and unless you kill me I'm not going to let you go. Start putting up with it."

"I like your plan," she says, "I like you," holding on to his shoulders as she looks at him mouth – as pink as ever - and reaches up at him tiptoes, to let him know "You have beautiful lips."

The kiss awakes her senses so easily she would be embarrassed if she could care to be. Bonnie lets her fingertips slip under the hem of his shirt as she asks him "Now… about that shower?"

#

"Did I die and go to heaven?" she asks, feeling his mouth on the curve of her neck, smiling a lazy smile and rolling on her back in the king size of the Gritti Palace.

The Landmark Grand Canal is a suite made of venetian stucco and damask silk frame an oak wood parquet; oil paintings and ancient mirrors are usually illuminated by great chandeliers made out of Murano glass. It's like waking up inside a dream set in the XV sec., to later look out a window, and admire the Great Canal, the Basilica of Saint Mary of Health and the Peggy Guggenheim Collection. It's like having the city at her feet, but she's recently discovered that's a position she'd rather have Damon.

"No, but I can bring you there in a minute," he assures her, caressing one breast as he lowers his mouth on the other to suck gently on her nipple and nibble at it.

"You're so full of yourself," she scolds him way too sweetly, and lets one hands sink into his dark hair, accompanying his ministrations.

He stops only to look at her and assure her, "You're going to be full of myself, too." It would sound funny in another moment, but she's already too aroused to not shiver at such a promise, and when two of his fingers fill her she loses all her will to continue this conversation.

Damon strokes her slowly and lets her feel his erection growing against the inside of her thigh. He traps her chin between two fingers and guides her head so that he can kiss her, his rhythm undisturbed by his never-ending interest for her pump lips.

She lifts against him, to have him rub himself against her flesh. The tip of his member touches the warmth of her, feeling her growing wetness. She sees him look intently at her, and closes her eyes letting him enjoy her display of pleasure. She licks her lips, arches her head backwards, desperate for a more satisfying friction.

"Damon, please," Her muscles quivered around his fingers and he forgot his plan to tease her to fill her, as he had promised. She shudders around him, her legs caging him to press him into her as he throbs inside her body. She can count the pulsations as he breathes hard against her chest to control himself.

"I told you," he mocks her with a grin, caressing the outside of her thigh. She wants to slap him but the length of him is eased into her and that's quite distracting. She grins back at him and moves her hips, rubbing his body in short, even strokes, ready to get her revenge and some gratification at the same time.

A moan escapes his lips at her unexpected take of control and when he looks at her she manages to smile before pushing him on his back and easing herself down on his long, thick member.

Her eyelids flutter shut as she sits on him, feeling him stretching her. Her body shudders together with his, as he grips her ass to press himself more firmly into her. She's perfectly embedded against his body and he can't help but groan. When she starts moving he helps her guiding her rocking, but she takes his hands, intertwine their fingers together and starts dictating a rhythm of her liking, a speed he needs himself, one that tears disconnected praises from his mouth. Her moans and cries are soft and he tries to keep silent so that he can enjoy them better, as he stares at the sweet movement of her round breasts.

He's glad when she lets go of his hands to place hers on his shoulders and ride him harder, because now he can indulge himself in the bountiful of her breasts, to cup them and massage them, until she's moaning louder. Her urgency for him, the sound of their bodies riding together only makes him want to surrender to her, please every little need she may have ever had, and when she loses her tempo and her walls starts tightening around his hardness he takes over the rhythm to keep it fast, so that the stimulation will add up to her pleasure. He grabs her by the waist, pulls her down as he trusts up, over and over, telling her "Yes, like this, Bonnie, yes."

She comes twice around him before he loses it too, and his strokes become unrefined as she cups his cheek. A sweetness that drives him over the edge, like nothing else could ever do.

#

They're naked, having breakfast in bed. He gives her a dirty look when she licks the cream away from her finger with too much enthusiasm.

"Stop doing that unless you're ready to face the consequences."

She giggles and lays with her back against the pillows, to stretch her leg and rub it against the outside of his thigh. His member starts to grow in front of her barely two minute later and she watches the show sipping on an espresso, like she's doing something mundane like watching David Letterman on tv.

"You evil thing," he says with a grin, "Do you want to die?" he asks.

"Never," she admits. Maybe _a petit mort_, she thinks as she smiles lazily at him.


End file.
